


Secret Tryst

by BelovedStranger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:20:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26595901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelovedStranger/pseuds/BelovedStranger
Summary: Slightly A/U OneshotHermione Granger, a socially awkward bookworm, found an unexpected connection with the badboy bully, Draco Malfoy. Slowly, passion burned between them. This wasn't supposed to happen, not with Malfoy, but helplessly, Hermione is swept up in the silver eyes that consumed her in a night she would never forget.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 82





	Secret Tryst

**Author's Note:**

> I have always wanted to write a smut between these two characters. My own (not so secret now) desire. Enjoy!

Was she really going to do this..? 

Fear and anxiety plagued her as she walked closer and closer to her prearranged destination. This was not her. Those were not her legs propelling her forward across the lawn. Unconsciously, or perhaps not so unknowingly, she attempted to mask her movements by not using the campus walkways for as long as possible. However, the Tower became bigger and bigger with every step she took.

A fresh wave of anxiety forced a halt to her feet, like a rabbit frozen in absolute terror in the face of danger. She tipped her head back to gaze up at the old, stone astronomy tower, then to the watch on her wrist. Surely her eyes deceived her. Ever punctual despite her busy schedule, there was only eight minutes remaining till midnight; the appointed time.

_Oh God!_

It was too soon! She was hoping she had more time to prepare herself. Instead, she was running out of time.

Her fingers were cold, and she was not completely sure if it was due to the slight chill to the night air or nerves. Pride wanted to spurn the thought of ever showing such weakness. She was a Gryffindor, and yet anxiety had her firmly whipped. And that was the only thing that forced her feet forward once more, one after the other. There was just enough anger at her social awkwardness that propelled her forward. Not to mention a twinkle of desperation hidden deep within her breast. The thought that she was soon to graduate from Hogwarts without experiencing a _normal_ school life filled her with loss—the loss of opportunity. Her fault. There was no one else to lay the blame upon.

She was young, but an adult. She was no child. Her time at Hogwarts was supposed to be filled with new experiences: socializing, which implied getting to know people, go to parties and school functions. It was not all about studying, for lectures and textbooks could not possibly give one all the necessary tools required to function properly in the _real world_. It was also mingling with her fellow student body, making connections; both platonic and intimate.

She’d stumbled her way into two strong platonic friendships with Harry and Ron, but no romantic liaisons to speak of.

Had she even tried?

 _No,_ she thought bleakly, having been too preoccupied with her studies. Disappointment was a heavy weight to bare.

A surprised, “You came,” broke her out of her thoughts. Blinking owlishly up at the man who stood before her, she realized she’d walked into the light of the moon.

“I wasn’t sure you would,” he continued. Despite the doubt his words portrayed, the look he gave her was self-assured, his tone teasing. Somehow, the sameness of his demeanor put her somewhat at ease.

“You came regardless.” She was on the threshold of the circular tower, while Draco stood in the dead center. They did not walk up the steps to the top, but hid inside the shadowy depths of the entrance. It was small, with four openings, with four sidewalks leading outward to other sectors on campus. To get to the top of the tower, the all too thin stairwell was locked tight.

She knew how disappointed Draco was that he could not find a way to get passed the barrier to explore the tower above. He’d mentioned it to her before.

He gave her a short laugh at her comment, amusement clear for her to see upon his face. Sometimes, she wondered if he was ever serious considering he typically showed her his confidant side. Her musing were far from censorious, merely curious.

“Of course, I waited, but any longer and you’d have been too late.”

_Too late._

Hermione been telling herself that all semester. The catalyst for her change in thinking when it concerned her priorities during her school years—which consisted mostly of studying— was that they were graduating this semester. That meant Draco would leaving her and move on with his life. Her secret crush. Such an occurrence had thrown her little world into chaos with the rise of scandalous thoughts. Far too daring for one such as her, and yet knowing her imaginings went outside her comfort zone annoyed her greatly.

While she was trapped within her shell, Draco was outgoing and adventurous. The escapades of past adventures he’d shared with her were mindboggling. Sometimes, she wished she were a little more like him; thrill seeker that he was. Though a Slytherin, some days she wondered if he were more Gryffindor than she for her lack of social bravery. 

She stared at him mutely for a few more moments.

Draco Malfoy was tall and lanky, with a hidden strength under the loos fitted clothes. Herminie was average height for a girl, yet Draco made her feel small. White blonde hair and grey eyes, his features were sharp yet arrogantly beautiful in the moonlight. The other girls envied his pearlescent hair and perfect eye brows. He was popular while she…was not. He was outgoing, eager for new experiences, while she hid away in her books.

The differences in their character were blatant. If only she could bridge the gap even marginally. Which was why she was here, past curfew, liable to be _expelled_. The horror. And yet, she’d finally be the one with a story to tell, if only she’d allow things to progress as they were leading up to. Maybe she would, if courage didn’t desert her first. 

A light breeze brushed along her back, reminding her of the chill in the air. Before her, Draco wore a similar black cloak but with the Slytherin patch over his breast pocket as hers had Gryffindor’s, and while the scarf around her neck was stripped red and orange, his was a black and green to stave off the cold. Beneath his clothes, she was sure he wore his school uniform as she wore hers. Neither had dressed up. That would have just been weird. And yet, perhaps she should have taken a bit more care with her appearance considering where they stood, what time it was about to be, and the legend all Hogwarts students were aware of.

Legend had it, many sweethearts would share a kiss right here under the Clock Tower at the stroke of midnight. The legend went a couple different ways. One of which was finding your one true love. A fanciful thought. Almost like Cinderella, in a way. However, the most talked about legend was a long standing tradition amongst the student body, which was, one could not truly graduate without receiving a kiss at some point in time under this very clock tower at midnight. So stupid. Who would risk expulsion?

 _You, ninny,_ her mind chastised.

The weight of that tradition crashed down on her because of their circumstances. She was so close at obtaining her goal, it was both thrilling and nerve-wracking!

It was then she realized she’d been silent for far too long. Embarrassment threatened to swallow her voice into a black void, never to be found again. As if aware of her inner conflict between desire and anxiety to step out of her comfort zone, Draco silently held out his hand for her, palm up.

She stared at him, into his eyes from no more than a foot away, so close did they stand. Yes, she’d always secretly liked his bad boy, devil may care persona, and a year ago, they’d begun to secretly meet after an unexpected meeting in the library when she’d witnessed his tears. The weight of his father’s expectations had caused a meltdown, and she’d felt compelled to offer him comfort the only way she knew how, a tight embrace. His head had pillowed on her breast, the salt of his sorrow dampening her sweater. Afterwards, rather than push her away and call her a filthy Mudblood, he’s kissed her cheek and left without a word. A strange friendship had risen from that night, always in secret.

Her secret.

It had always made her feel something powerful knowing she’d done something out of the ordinary with her friends never the wiser, a side of her that was not her, a more daring Hermione Granger. As she stared into Draco’s silver gaze, a part of her wished he’d take the choice from her, to grab her hand, yank her within the small space and—

Above, the chiming of the bell began.

The words, _too late,_ rang in her ear. Her heart beating far too fast, she took that small step forward without even thinking about it. There was still about six inches between them, but they were close enough to cause her fluttering heart to stumble over itself.

Even though she had not taken his hand, Draco grasped hers. He didn’t try to bridge the gap between them more than she’d already done. He stared down at her, and the eye contact was almost too much for her frazzled nerves; however, she held that piercing gaze even when she felt his free hand cup the back of her neck under the fall of her wild curly hair.

His head descended towards her. “You’re overthinking things,” he murmured not unkindly. She felt his moist breath on her cheek. “Close your eyes, Hermione.”

Hermione, not Granger. He spoke to her intimately, causing a thrill to echo in her veins. It wasn’t the command that had her eyelids closing but the light brush of lips on her own that caused her obedience. As the ring of the bell sounded around them, Hermione tried to enjoy her first kiss in far too long, but the knowledge that anyone could see them outweighed all else.

Her social anxiety tried to raise its ugly head. What if someone saw her? With _Malfoy_? Though the night was dark, the moonlight shinning in on them was like a beckon for all to see what occurred below the tower.

She drew back slightly. “Draco, I think—”

“Stop thinking,” he interrupted her softly. He released her hand to place it over her lower back. With a firm press, he pulled her in until the space between them was no more. “Just feel me.” His lips brushed along hers, feather light. “But if you want me to stop, push me away.”

He kept the kiss light. When his lips moved, hers followed, more because of participations sake than anything, until she really _felt_. The press of his body from chest to hips, the way she awkwardly placed her hands on his hips, but more importantly was the kiss itself.

How long had it been since the last time she’d allowed a man so close? If she stopped him now, how long would she wait for such an opportunity to come again? The thought of waiting for what she was experiencing now, and possibly not have again for some time, compelled her to relax and focus more on what they were doing and not where they were doing it. However, if she had to be perfectly honest, the thrill of being seen was not totally abhorrent. 

It was just a kiss. Innocent contact all things considering. But how profound it was. How absolutely _freeing_ Hermione found the experience. Fear was gone as the unknown vanished under Draco’s kiss. Anxiety was soothed by his lack of force. He did not take advantage of her small show of faith. Draco’s hands did not wander inappropriately, nor did he grind vulgarly against her. Such a contrast to the persona he gave the world. He kissed her as if he truly cared for her comfort. Surrender was never more enchanting.

That he didn’t pressure her for more made her daring, causing thoughts of taking things just a step further to form. What was the harm, really? And it was a good test to gauge his self-control. A potentially dangerous game with any other man. Hermione didn’t feel threatened by him. Not physically, which gave her the courage to seek more.

Her arms went around his lower back, and now she blatantly pressed herself against his frame. She was soft where he was hard. The only change in him was a slight tightening to the back of her neck and back that encouraged her closeness. She took things a step further still. Like any curious woman held in such an intimate embrace, she wondered about other responses. So she pressed her hips closer, grinding on him. If he had an erection, she couldn’t tell, and somehow not knowing drove her curiosity.

Could she cause such a reaction? Did she want to?

Perhaps she should—

Suddenly, Draco was walking backwards, slowly. When her knuckles brushed against brick, Hermione stared up at him, the kiss momentarily interrupted. He was leaning his shoulders back against one side of the tower, keeping his hips away from the stone so as not to bruise her hands that were still pressed against his lower back.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a low voice.

“Getting comfortable.” Usually, he was more of a talker, so his short replies only made her focus more on how his body felt against hers.

Then he was stroking her hair down her back, before brushing a few strands away from her cheek when the wind played with the auburn mass. Draco cupped her cheek. Her heart stuttered.

“We can stop if you want.”

No sooner had he spoken, he was kissing her again, open mouth kisses. Tame yet provocative. It was easier to focus on him to control her anxiety, so Hermione participated without a word even though she’d been thinking to put a halt to their intimate encounter moments before.

 _Just a little longer… a little more,_ she thought, allowing herself to get caught up in the moment, because who knew when she’d allow such a thing to happen again. A dismal thought. It made her want to hold onto this time she had with him.

Perhaps it was daring on his part, but suddenly a hand was on her ass. It was no hesitant touch but a firm grab. At the same instance, Draco angled his head for a deeper kiss. A touch of his tongue, and she mimicked him, tasting him.

Curiosity won over anxiety. How far would they go out here where anyone could see? What would he do next? Surely she was safe from too intimate contact despite the late hour. There was a feeling of safety where they made out. It kept things marginally tamed. There were no expectations beyond this tower. So she allowed his familiar touch, enjoyed it. The thrill of wondering what else was next kept her enthralled. It also made her feel restless for that next step. She wanted it, craved it. Though the midnight chime had ceased a bit ago, Hermione was reluctant to put a halt to this—whatever _this_ was.

“Do you want me to—”

“Don’t stop.”

Hermione stilled. Had she just—

Her inner shock was replaced by another sort of astonishment. With an arm around her waist, Draco’s hand was firmly on her breast, squeezing and fondling through the material of her clothing. The thought of where he was touching more than the touch itself was what spiked her arousal. Like a shock to her system, need pooled low in her belly.

Instinctively, she pressed closer to him, while her arms tightened around his back. She didn’t dissuade his daring, merely tried to hide the fact should any look in their direction. Another thrill had her heart pounding a mile a minute. Would they get caught? She hoped not. She’d die if they were, but the danger was exhilarating. Perhaps Draco’s adventurous ways were rubbing off on her the more she rubbed on him.

Her silence must have encouraged him, for his thigh insinuated itself between her own. Hers parted instinctively. A gentle yet firm upwards press and she was riding his thigh. As if showing her how, his hands moved to her hips, gliding her along his leg. Electric flares of pleasure tantalized her. They were small burst of pleasure with the potential of being more powerful with the right angle, with just the right pressure.

Her long skirt rode high, sliding along her female flesh in ways she’d never dreamed of possible. And she wanted more. So focused on those sparks of pleasure, Hermione ignored everything else until a hand in her hair tugged. Her head fell back, leaving her staring up at Draco, her mouth parted as she gasped for air. His gaze was sharp on her face. There was an intensity to him she’d never seen before. And yet the kiss he placed on her lips was soft.

“Yeah, ride me. Take what you need from me.”

Heat suffused her face at his words. They were highly erotic, which interrupted her rhythm. “Someone might see,” she whispered.

“Let them.”

“No!” she gasped in horror at his complete disregard at such a prospect.

“We’re not doing anything yet.” Her mind captured that _yet_. “Keep close to me, and no one will see this.”

 _This_ was his hand insinuating itself beneath her sweater. Cool fingers caressed her belly, causing a fine tremor along her spine. Hermione didn’t stop him when he cupped her breast once more, now her bra the only thing separating her flesh from his fondling hand.

Why wasn’t she stopping him?! This was madness!

“You’re crazy!” Hermione kept her voice pitched low, though her exclamation was almost frantic.

She captured his wrist, holding onto the hand that explored her body. And yet, still, she did not stop him, not really. No words fell from her mouth, nor did she shove his hand away or step back. Instead, she kept close to him as instructed. Some dormant part of her kept her firmly in place. Curiosity, arousal, need. Draco made these desires flare to life like an inferno within her.

The truth of the matter was, _she didn’t want him to stop_ , but she’d be damned if she admitted it to him. Embarrassment caught her tongue.

His thumb brushed across her nipple, barely felt through the material of her bra. It made her want him to bypass that last bearer and—

“Tell me to stop.”

She couldn’t.

No words to stop or compel him formed on her lips. She couldn’t even meet his gaze, too embarrassed by her surprisingly strong needs, which kept her head down, and eyes on his chest.

“Hermione…” He murmured her name against her hair, before turning his cheek to rest atop her head.

Without haste, his fingers grew bolder, moving under her bra. Finally, he cupped her with no barrier in-between. With his palm, he circled her nipple. Her breath hitched. Her forehead fell against his chest and the only encouragement she could muster in this outlandish situation was to hug him tighter and press closer into his hand.

“You want me.”

It sounded like a statement rather than a question. Either way, his chitter chatter was doing nothing to slow down the racing of her heart, though it caused the ache between her thighs to intensify. He had to be doing it on purpose! He had to know what he was doing to her frazzled nerves.

“I think you want me,” was her bold retort in an attempt to regain some ground and take back some of the control he’d so easily stolen from her. Or rather, the control she’d willingly given up.

He shifted his leg between hers, rubbing, stroking sensitized flesh.

“I want you.” He made the admission so easy to say out loud. “And I can feel you want me, too.” His boldness knew no bounds! Which was a huge turn-on for her.

“Egomaniac,” she blustered.

“Am I imagining things?” he asked.

Unable to respond, she decided he talked far too much for her peace of mind, so growing a pair of her own, she grabbed the front of his cloak in her fist and pulled him down for a kiss. How long they embraced, kissing, and touching, Hermione was unsure. She didn’t take the time to check the time or stop to inquire. More was needed. The ache was steadily building towards frustration. While her agitation rose, Draco seemed firmly in control of himself. His control and show of restraint was both a blessing but the source of her frustration.

“Draco.” His name was a grit of teeth, a heady moan signaling her desire.

As if he sensed how hard it was to voice her desires, he gave her an option. “Would you like to come with me to the infirmary?” Before she could ask, he added, “I made arrangements to be assured privacy.” His voice was low and deep, and it was then she knew he was just as effected by their interlude as she.

Thank God! At least she wasn’t the only one. Then suspicion crept over her. “Why?”

He laughed in the face of her suspicion. He then gave her nipple a firm pinch, causing her back to arch and a small sound of enjoyment to escape her throat. “Wishful thinking?”

Then he palmed her ass and switched breasts, playing with her other nipple. “Come with me?” 

It was a loaded question, and she knew it.

He was always giving her options, never forcing her choice either which way, which she appreciated. But perhaps, not so much this time, as a part of her wanted the choice to be taken from her hands. She desired; she craved; she _needed_. But the full weight of acceptance was almost too much to be placed on her shoulders. However, even she realized it wasn’t right to leave it all up to him when it should be a mutual choice. It wasn’t fair to him if she had regrets later and placed the blame fully on his shoulders.

It was childish, and hadn’t she decided earlier this evening that she wasn’t a kid anymore? That it was time to step out of her comfort zone and do more than watch the world pass her by? She wanted life stories like the ones Draco had told her about, to experience _something_ in her school years. Caution might as well be the same thing as fear, preventing her from branching out.

“If you decide to go,” he intruded upon her thoughts, “we don’t have to do anything what you’re thinking—” as if he could read her scandalous thoughts! “We could talk or whatever if you didn’t want to go back to your dorm. But I was serious when I said I made sure no one would interrupt us.” 

She believed him. If anyone could secretly pull off a romantic liaison in the infirmary, it was Draco Malfoy. She was sure he’d made a request to someone with connections, someone who knew to avoid Dumbledore’s all-knowing eye. Perhaps she was playing with fire when she replied, “Okay.”

“O-kay..?” He stretched out the ‘ _o_ ’ sound, waiting for her to elaborate.

Moving back from the warmth of his body, she met his gaze boldly after rearranging her clothes back to normal. “Okay, I’ll go with you.” She shrugged, faking a nonchalance she did not feel.

Awkwardness threatened to dampen her ardor as they walked towards the building before them, leaving the Clock Tower behind. Draco didn’t hold her hand, nor did she reach for his. It was a long five minute walk. They kept quiet and moved quickly, eyes open for movement, because being caught on this floor was a daunting prospect to her. 

It wasn’t until Draco shut the infirmary door behind them that resolve filled her. She should feel apprehensive, yet the little room in the back that was the only privacy from the large room filled with small cots gave her a sense of security. Though her ardor had all but waned under the weight of her second-guessing thoughts, her resolve to take charge of this moment filled her. It was one step out of her shell, one huge step forward, and she needed Draco to help her with that endeavor.

Surprising him, Hermione could see it in his eyes, she backed him against the door with her body. He allowed it, didn’t stop her when she went on tiptoe and grabbed his shoulders for a smoldering kiss. Perhaps she could not put her needs into words, but it was told actions spoke louder than words. She hoped he’d take the hint her actions portrayed. 

Which he must have, because his arms went around her readily. Holding her close, his hands went under her shirt. While his hands cupped her breasts through her bra, she smoothed her palms up his back, his cloak impeding her access to his body. Desperate to get back into a mood where physical cravings stole all rational thought, Hermione was surprised when Draco stopped her from yanking his cloak off.

“What—I don’t…”

Feelings of embarrassment threatened to consume her as she instantly thought she was being rejected, but before hurt feelings could enter her chest, she heard a distinct click of the lock being engaged.

It was his turn to reach for his clothing, shrugging the garment off, where he let it pool on the floor at his feet. He wore his school uniform underneath. Draco was already loosening his tie while staring full at her face. Gazing stupidly at him for a moment, Hermione realized just how awkward she was making this exchange. Instead of hot and steamy, she imagined what he must think of her ineptitude.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted. It’s not like she’d done anything like it before. She should leave. Coming here, with him, had been a huge error of judgment. Her anxiety only made matters worse, but as if he didn’t mind her awkwardness, Draco drew closer when she had retreated a few steps to draw her back against his body.

“Yes, you do,” he assured, lips hovering over her own like a ghost of a touch. “You’re thinking too much again when this isn’t a time to be thinking, only feeling.”

His lips moved across her cheek in a barely felt caress. He pulled her hair away from the side of her neck as he bent down, trailing a path down the column with his lips. A murmured sigh feel from her own as she closed her eyes, trying to do as he instructed. She wanted this, even though she continued to stubbornly keep her mind blank, least she run back into her shell and out the door. Regret was a bitter pill, one she refused to swallow tonight.

Enjoyment was hers for the taking if she just _felt_.

“I want you,” he whispered in her ear.

 _I want you, too._ It was a thought that went unvoiced.

His large palm cupped her cheek. Their eyes met. “You don’t know for how long I’ve wanted you.” Hermione swallowed thickly at that admission, the heated look in Draco’s eyes capturing her attention like a moth drawn to a flame. She’d be burned. She desperately wanted to be. “But I’m going to show you,” he promised.

A shiver slithered down her spine. She watched him remove his shirt with slow movements, and when his hands went to her cloak, she didn’t stop its removal. She was becoming decidedly hot in the warm room, anyway.

 _Don’t think, just feel,_ she told herself. 

Her dress shirt was soon to follow the growing pile on the floor, leaving her standing in her skirt and bra. A heartbeat later, with a hand at the middle of her back, she was pressed against his bare chest. Where she was smooth, his chest hair and happy trail tickled her flesh. No space separated them, and Hermione quite enjoyed the sensation of skin on skin contact.

Had he initiated the kiss they were now sharing or had she? Hermione couldn’t be sure. All she was aware of was the heat of his skin and the softness of his mouth. She felt the rasp of his beard against her chin and the stubble of hair on his upper lip as they kissed, hyperaware of every sensation. Her senses were put into overdrive.

Fingertips grazed along her spine. The sensation was enough to cause a delicate tremble down her back. His touch went higher. A barely discernable shift and suddenly her bra went lax. Draco had successfully unsnapped the back without nary a struggle. His skill with her bra silently proclaimed his experience in such matters. Instead of being off-putting, it was thrilling. If he was capable of leading, Hermione knew she could follow seamlessly.

She didn’t have to think, only react, and damn was she reacting when light fingertips brushed the straps off her shoulders. But the white cups were held in place by their bodies still pressed tightly together. It was she who moved that tiny step back, allowing her bra to fall to the floor, forgotten.

Draco pulled her back. No longer still, he shifted in slight movements that rubbed his chest hair along her breasts, tantalizing her with sensations.

He was going too damn slow, she began to think with impatience. They were still half-dressed and standing by the door of what she guessed to be the nurse’s spare room for when she had to stay the night to look after ill or injured students. Having made the choice to be here and enjoy the moment, Hermione wanted _everything_. Taking the lead just enough to move things along, she took a small step back. With her hands on his hips, she encouraged him to follow. Another step back then another and another. However, she had no idea where she was leading. They were still locked together, his tongue in her mouth.

She was about to break away to look for the bed when she was suddenly pushed almost roughly against the wall she hadn’t realized was so near. A hand beneath her right thigh yanked her stalking clad knee up to his hip. Forced to balance on one foot, Hermione unconsciously tightened her leg against him for balance, while her arms went around his neck.

Their eyes locked.

He watched her when he cupped her left breast, and the close perusal had heat warming her face. A thumb brushed her nipple. Then again, until he was toying with her, but it wasn’t until he gently pinched her that she reacted. She flinched; a strangled sound getting caught in her throat. He did it again, rolled her nipple, before giving her yet another pinch, followed by a gentle tug. On and on he toyed with her.

Heart pounding, she tried to breathe, but the best she could do was pant as if she’d just run a mile. Both hands on her chest, Draco amped up her need, making the ache in her lower stomach intensify until a burning sensation awakened between her thighs. It was awful, and yet she craved more.

“It burns.” Her whispered admission was followed by a sharp thrust of her hips against his. However, the angle was off and did absolutely nothing to assuage the ache.

“Where?”

Was he playing with her, Hermione wondered in more than a little frustration? “You know where,” she said. Her jaw was clenched tightly shut as pleasure assaulted her from his wicked touch, as she tried to keep her sounds of enjoyment at a minimum.

Draco ground his hips against her. His voice was husky when he teased, “I don’t think I do.”

She blamed sexual frustration when she bit his bottom lip perhaps harder than necessary for his games. Instead of jerking back under her small punishment, Draco retaliated with a hard kiss. As if energized by her feisty assault, he released her breasts only to grasp the back of her thighs and yank upwards. He easily took her full weight upon himself. 

“Wrap your legs around me,” he demanded.

She was already moving to do just that. An arm under her ass, the other against the wall next to her head, he stared deep into her eyes as he angled her just right and thrust against her. Now _that_ was the correct angle. Just as he’d done under the Clock Tower when he told her to ride his thigh, he forced her to grind against him. Their clothes still separated them from joining in the most carnal of ways; however, they mimicked the act by grinding and moving against each other.

Suddenly, Draco yanked her higher against his body until her legs were around his middle rather than his hips. Taking a small step back from the wall so he could place a hand between her shoulder blades, he forced her to arch her back. Head descending, he captured a nipple between his lips. First a gentle suction then more firmly, he drew against her breast.

The pleasure was electric. Hermione ground against his stomach purely on reflex. Legs tight around him, they easily worked together to keep her from falling to the floor without seeming to try too hard. Not wanting him to stop, she had an arm wrapped around the back of his neck to keep his mouth on her.

Mind blank as she willingly sank into sensations, Hermione was barely aware when he moved. It wasn’t until he stopped sucking on her nipple that she became aware that he was walking. With her still in his arms, he toed off his shoes.

Then she was falling.

With a small bounce, he pinned her to the bed beneath him. The coverlet was cool against her back, a shock to her system. His hand was still between her shoulder blades, but far from trapped as he found and grasped her hair. With a yank, he arched her neck. Instead of capturing her mouth with his, he descended upon her neck. His tongue mapped her rapidly beating pulse.

Teeth nipped where her neck met her shoulder. A kiss to her collar bone, and further down he went. He prevented her from watching his movements with his fist in her hair, easily pinning her in place, and damn if that didn’t escalate the burn growing within her. He forced her to feel, gave her no other option, and without her eyes to track him, sensations intensified.

He palmed her breast, fondling and squeezing as if pleased with its weight and roundness. Still, he ventured further south with his lips. He stopped occasionally. Tonguing her neglected nipple, he circled the stiff nub, making her wait for more attention.

Impatient, she grabbed the back of his head, desperate for him to suck and stop teasing her! As if refusing to be rushed, he forced patience on her as he instead lashed her nipple with the flat of his tongue. She breathed a low moan. The sound ended sharper than it had begun when he surprised her with a gentle nip.

“I like that sound,” he praised her. “Keep telling me what you like,” he continued huskily. “If not in words then beg me with those breathy moans.”

The things he said, using that deeper than normal tone… Was he trying to blow her mind?! Though she wasn’t able to return such dirty talk as embarrassment damn near choked her if she dared make an attempt, Hermione was thrilled when he gave it to her. Words could be an intimate caress all their own, and she waited with suspended breath not only for his next touch but what he might say to her next.

The room was dim, illuminated only by never ending candle flame and the light of the moon filtering in through the window. Her eyes closed, it was easy to focus on his lips as they tickled down her stomach. Something new he showed her about herself was the fact that light kisses against her lower stomach made her twitch and tremble from sensitivity. With a flick of his tongue against her naval, he stopped his exploration.

Her hair was released, so she watched him in confusion, until he started removing her socks and shoes. His own socks came off soon afterwards. Hands on her hips, he watched her silently as he unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt. Reality of what they were doing and what they were about to do threatened to ruin the moment for her, so Hermione focused on the burn between her thighs, the ache she felt within her core. That seemed to do the trick, because now she was desperate for him to finish removing her clothes as he slid them down her legs. Her white panties remained. Instead of removing them immediately as she assumed, Draco sank to his knees on the floor, kneeling by the edge of the bed. Arms under her knees, he easily pulled her across the bed and closer to him. His show of strength thrilled her.

Watching him, she angled up on her elbows. Her breath froze in her lungs, eyes wide, and a second later, she collapsed back to the bed with a gasp. Material was moved out of the way. Hot breath bathed private flesh. Spread wide for his touch with her legs over his shoulders and down his back, Hermione clenched the blanket in her fists at that first graze of his tongue.

Spreading her slick folds with the flat of his tongue, Draco didn’t hesitate to stroke against the sensitive nub at the top of her cleft. The intensity she’d felt previously during their foreplay was nothing compared to what he did to her now. Nerves sang and danced along her flesh centered around that one spot he continued to toy with.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed.

Her stomach bunched as she arched her back, legs tensing against his back, which only pressed him closer to her.

He made the ache worse when he thrust a finger inside her wet channel. As if knowing she needed more, he pushed in a second to make her feel fuller. With a ‘come hither’ movement with his fingers, curling them towards himself from inside her pussy, he rubbed against a spot that would have shot her off the bed had he not had a firm hold on her.

He kept her in place as she writhed and squirmed under the onslaught of pleasure. There was no way she could keep still with the electric currents of ecstasy flowing through her from where Draco teased her, and being quiet was out of the question, too. Lips parted from panting breaths, moans and small cries and whimpers spilled from her throat to echo around the otherwise quiet room. Perspiration misted her flesh. She felt so wound tight, she was close to shattering.

 _Never_ had she experienced this pleasure. It was damn near painful in its intensity. Like a mindless animal, she clawed at the bed as she tried not to cry out her pleasure. She was so close to release. She wanted it, _needed_ it. “Please!” she cried, and repeated the entreaty a few more times until a groan ended articulate words.

With a hand cupped her ass cheek, keeping her hips suspended in the air for his mouth, Draco pumped his fingers within her faster, pressing harder against that spot that drove her wild. But what tipped her over the edge was when he wrapped his lips around her delicate flesh and added suction to her clit. The duel actions stole her breath when she would have cried out her release. Her inner walls spasmed, clenching around fingers that continued to pump inside her, prolonging her ecstasy.

Laying trembling in the aftermath as Hermione attempted to regain even a thread of coherent thought, the bed dipped near her hip, and an arm wrapped around her lower back as she was lifted and moved further atop the bed. Opened eyes she hadn’t even realized she’d closed, Draco was suspended above her on his hands and knees.

As of he’d only been waiting for her to open her eyes, he spoke. “Beautiful.” Hand on her hip, he stroked up along her side. The way he stared at her made her believe him. It wasn’t until he kneed her legs apart and settled his weight between hers that she realized a couple of facts. One, she was naked. Draco had removed her panties sometime while she was mindless in the aftermath of her first orgasm, and two, he was now, also, naked.

She hadn’t seen him undress, too caught up in ecstasy. She didn’t look down their bodies for confirmation, but she felt him hard and hot against her stomach. That he was aroused made her heart skip a beat with renewed interest. Though she couldn’t see him, she felt his length and he was not small. He was big, definitely larger than average. _How big was he?_ she inwardly wondered. She was more than slightly tempted to ask, but her voice refused to vocalize the question. Embarrassment caught her tongue. However, Draco seemed to have no such problems.

“I need you,” he murmured, his voice deeper than ever before.

Oh God, was this about to happen?!

“Open for me,” he encouraged as he settled more firmly between her thighs.

She felt him reach between them, knew he grasped himself. When the tip of his cock rubbed against her opening, Hermione tensed, remembering how big he’d felt along her belly, how he’d reached clear up to her naval. How was he even going to fit?! Her muscles tensed up reflexively, and her hands clenched around his biceps in agitation.

As if sensing her disquiet and why, he whispered, “I won’t hurt you. Relax.”

Instead of thrusting in, he moved his erection along her cleft, stimulating her. “God, you’re wet.” Her essence made his cock slick as he moved against her. She couldn’t help but respond.

“Yes, move with me,” he encouraged when she moved her hips in time with his shallow thrusts.

Drawing her knees up to clasp his rocking hips, Hermione leaned up and Draco met her eagerness with a kiss. It was no tame melding of mouths, but an erotic dance preluding a joining of other regions further south. The ache low in her stomach was intense. She felt empty. She needed him to thrust _inside_ her. Her nails dug into his flesh; her hips rocked against his more strongly. It was obvious she wanted more, so why wasn’t he giving it to her?!

“Oh God, please stop teasing me already,” she finally told him. Shyness be damned in the face of such torment! “You’re driving me crazy!” 

“You want me?” His voice was calm.

Hers was anything but. “Yes!”

“You need me inside you?”

“ _Yes!_ ” She clawed at him, shifting restless beneath him, but he had her firmly pinned. If he didn’t do something quick, she was going to—

Invasion. He pushed inside her, his thickness forcing tight muscles to unclench and make room for him. It was phenomenal. Then it was painful. However, Draco was slow, allowing her to grow accustomed to his size. She felt _everything_ , how he spread her and filled her up. And he kept going. Deeper and deeper. When he stopped to draw back, Hermione quickly wrapped her legs around his lower back and dug her heels into his spine, trying to force him back inside despite the sting of his invasion.

“Yes, wrap your legs around me. Let me in.”

His words only spurred her on, making her wild with need. 

When he thrust back in, she quickly realized he hadn’t gone all the way in before, because he was deeper. Pain and pleasure held her enthrall. Out and in. In and out. Deeper and deeper he pressed, forcing her body to accommodate him. He was not only long, but thick. He stroked against sensitive tissue, her slickness making it easy for him to move within her. When she thought she couldn’t possibly take any more of him, he showed her how wrong she was.

Angling upwards on his next thrust, he stroked against _that_ spot.

“Do that again!” she demanded breathlessly.

Without comment, Draco obeyed, giving her exactly what she needed. The pain slowly receded as pleasure bloomed. And then he hit the end of her on his next thrust. As if he felt it, too, he ground against her, pressing her cervix before withdrawing and doing it again. Angled upwards on every inwards thrust to hit her sweet spot, he showed her just how pleasurable it could be with a man of his size as he gently hit the her cervix again.

He didn’t stop. He wasn’t rough. He kept the pace slow but deep; a rhythmic glide. He seemed so in control despite his hardness while she was lost in ecstasy. How was he so calm in the face of such devastating pleasure? The sounds he made where nothing compared to the ones spilling from her lips, as if he wrenched the sounds from her throat one thrust at a time. Her stomach bunched as she angled upwards, meeting his thrusts, trying to force him to go faster. Despite her best efforts to spur him on, Draco easily kept his rhythm slow.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he murmured, turning his face against her temple as he cradled her against his chest. He kept his weight off her with a forearm pressed to the mattress beside her, while his other arm was curled around her lower back, keeping her angled for his thrusts.

“I can’t think,” she gasped out.

He told her, “You’re not supposed to.”

“You’re _torturing_ me!” she all but wailed. She knew he was purposefully keeping her on the edge, refusing to let her fall into ecstasy. _And it was killing her._

“I’m pleasuring you,” he countered easily.

She tried to shove against his shoulder, not to get him off her but to show him her frustration. He didn’t budge, didn’t quicken his pace, and continued to drive her crazy. Didn’t he understand how much it burned? How deep the ache went?

She begged him to finish her. She needed. She craved.

Then he surprised her. He rolled. Easily staying inside her as he changed their positions, Draco held onto her hips and she sat on top of him. Hermione blinked down at him in confusion.

"Ride me,” he told her huskily. He yanked her hips down, bumping her cervix. With a gasp, her eyes clenched tightly shut as pleasure snaked up her spine. “Take what you need from me.”

And she did. There was no way she could deny herself. She burned fiercely. Rocking her hips, she ground her sensitive clit against his pelvis, stroking him deep inside her. Forward and backward she shifted. Trying to find that one angle to blow her mind away, Hermione leaned backwards, hands on his thighs. Hips writhing, pressing against his pelvic, she found it.

_Oh God, right there!_

His hands were on her hips, helping her, rocking her on his erection. But then he thrust, breaking contact with her clit and his pelvic. Frustrating her. In an effort to pin him down, she leaned over him. Hands on his shoulders, he met her gaze. Her long hair fell around them, veiling them in a world of their own.

“Stop moving,” she told him breathlessly. Rocking her hips, she found her rhythm once more. The fullness of him stretching her pussy combined with rubbing herself against him was perfection. She was so close. She knew it, felt it. Dammit, why couldn’t she take that last step where she needed? Her movements became jerky, less rhythmic and more desperate as she tried to find her high.

Begging for help, she cried his name sharply.

Tightening his hold on her hips, he rocked her harder against him. Pushing up with his feet, he seated himself more firmly inside her. The tip of his cock rubbed against her in strong glides. And finally, she fell. As her orgasm stole her senses, her eyes no longer saw. Black spots stole her vision, and a hum rang in her ears. The strength in her arms gave out, tumbling her against his chest as she spasmed above him.

Draco did not remain still as she came undone.

With a twist, he was above her once more. With a hand on her shoulder, pinning her in place, he kept her spread wide by hooking her knee over his forearm. He thrust faster even as she trembled, ravishing her even as she begged him to stop. It was too much, the pleasure far too intense.

“I can’t take it!” she told him with a hand against his chest.

“Yes, you can.” Draco gave her no quarter.

“It’s too much!”

“It’s not enough.”

Though she begged for reprieve, a part of her was glad he did not, because the intensity of the moment was strangely addicting. She’d never before felt the like. As her world came apart around her, Draco continued to stare down at her. No, not her face, but further south. Her eyes followed. Down her body, until she saw where they were joined. Her first look at his cock was watching him repeatedly bury himself inside her pussy. He glistened with her arousal. She watched, captivated, turned on by the sight. So much so, the visual amped up her need.

Impossibly, she felt another climb to release.

 _No way, impossible!_ her mind rebelled. And yet it was happening. “Not again,” she denied, shaking her head against the bed.

“Yes, again,” Draco groaned. “Again and again and again.”

“You’re killing me!” she exaggerated against his shoulder when he lowered on top of her. Draco cradled her against his chest. Allowing her to take his full weight, he wrapped his arms around her. He cupped her ass cheek in one hand, while he wrapped his arm around the back of her head, pulling her face against him.

And still he moved. Shallow thrusts. He rubbed against the end of her, while his pelvic ground against her overly sensitive clit. She bit his shoulder even as her nails dug into his back, holding onto him for dear life even as he took her to nirvana.

Before the night was over, Hermione new he’d ruined her for other men. 


End file.
